Ghost Story
by WwInactiveAccountwW
Summary: The Necromancer has escaped his prison on the eve of Halloween and Randy confronts his fear of being a medium in order to save his town. GhostAU based on night of the living mcfizzles and brolateral damage. Probable hints of weinerham. On hiatus
1. Chapter 1

The teen groaned, snuggling deeper into the blankets to escape the autumn chill. The heater wasn't working like it used to and he had taken to wearing fuzzy socks to bed. Unfortunately, they always fell off. Continuing to groan, Randy Cunningham threw off the covers before the last of his motivation crumbled.

He methodically took the steps on the bunk bed's ladder one at a time, brain not yet fully awake. Bare feet padded out the bedroom door, down the hall, and into the bathroom. Friday has begun.

Getting ready was a simple task, the routine actions required no thought. He rummaged through piles of unfolded clothes for something appropriate for the nippy bike ride to school.

Breakfast required more decision making than anything else. Today was a leftover container of something- he didn't care what. Randy didn't bother to sit down at the kitchen table, instead he leaned against the counter, watching the neighborhood come to life outside the window.

Leaves ripped away from their branches, landing underfoot of a jogger. Across the street, a car headed off to work. All the children were gone though. The bus was always long gone by the time he was ready, forcing Randy to find alternate means of transportation. He liked it that way.

Soon, he accepted his fate. Ignoring the bite of the wind, Randy firmly shut the front door and skirted around the hand-carved pumpkin on the front porch. Its toothy grin was the only one to wish him a good day.

A red bike stood next to the empty garage. Randy lived with his mother and she left earlier than him. Norrisville High was a good mile away, a ten minute ride on a day with less than favorable weather. Randy's previous school in East Speazleton had been three times the distance. In fact, that was one of the reasons for the move. He had had one friend there, but that was the other reason.

Norrisville was a new start, a new school. Literally- the city had grown since multi-millionaire Hannibal McFist set up shop. Norrisville was the epitome of progress: old establishments were either knocked down or remodeled. Maybe that's why the specters of the past no longer haunted him.

Randy tugged on the drawstrings of his hoodie. His head had been freezing since becoming part of the 'Mean Bros'. Their initiation required him to shave most his hair off, but the Mohawk was temporary until it could grow out again. Also, he went one step further and dyed it purple.

Today, of all days, it was easy for him to put on his mean bro persona. Rolling the front wheel into the bike rack, Randy didn't even bother to lock it. Anyone who messed with it knew the consequences. He curled his lip in disgust. Today is October 30th, a Friday. Kids of all ages wore their costumes to school.

Randy brushed past a witch and a princess, seething with hatred for the so called holiday. Halloween… people dressing up, decorating their yard, welcoming strangers to their doorstep and giving them candy… how could they be so foolish? So oblivious…

His scowl deepened and costumed classmates rushed to get out of his path. In fact, he was so annoyed that it distracted him from his locker combination. It took him twice as long to open it, further darkening his mood.

"Piece of junk," Randy muttered when it finally opened. A meaty hand from behind slammed it shut.

Randy whirled, "What do you think you're doing shoob?!"

A group of four laughed.

"Aw, did we scare you, shrimp?" Bash towered over him, hand still on the locker door. Randy was the smallest of the mean bros and thus earned the nickname 'shrimp'.

"Nah, I don't get scared." Randy brushed it off, crossing his arms.

Doug and Ethan snickered and winked. Randy missed their exchange, but noticed that all four were dressed for the occasion. Ethan was a skeleton, Doug was a wrestler, Mick wore a pair of devil horns, and Bash had a hockey mask pulled over his face. Together, they were the Mean Bros: bullies of Norrisville High.

"Good, because we have one final test for you."

"What?" Randy wondered how the eve of the worst day of the year actually got worse.

"No spoilers!" said Ethan.

"We'll pick you up before dark. Too bad you'll miss my Halloween party," Bash sneered. Despite that the holiday wasn't until the next day, most parties were held on the eve of to avoid clashing with trick-or-treating.

They left him quivering against his locker. Randy acted tough, but the unknown test tonight scared him to the core.

Bash and co were all juniors, Randy was a freshman. Randy had thought about finding a group his age, but the only ones who would take a loner were a group of misfits themselves. Theresa and the two other guys were alright; it was the leader, Julian, who deterred Randy. It was more than his goth getup, the fake fangs, there was something very wrong with Julian. So far, Julian was the only vaguely supernatural thing in the new town and Randy was keeping count.

Anyway, why hang with losers who get picked on when you could be safe hanging with the bullies? This is why. They can force you to do things. Randy would receive a lot more than a swirly if he refused to cooperate.

Randy opened his eyes without remembering when he had closed them. A few students were glancing his way as they passed.

"What are you looking at?!" Randy snapped, sending them on their way. "Gotta find Hensletter about my homework…"

Bucky Hensletter was where he always is before school- in the library. He was at a table, back turned to Randy. Randy forcefully spun Bucky's chair around, surprising the timid boy.

"Where's my essay?"

"Randy! Well… um, it isn't due until Monday so I thought-"

Randy's eyes flashed. "Do you have it or not?"

"I'm almost done," Bucky said hopefully.

"Do you realize what would happen if I turn in _my_ essay in _your_ handwriting? I'd fail the class! You don't want that do you?" The bully tilted the chair back so it was resting on only two legs.

"Of course not!" Bucky lied. "I'll give it to you at lunch."

"I'll hold you to it." Randy half considered releasing the chair and letting gravity do the rest, but opted against it.

"Thank you thank you it's nearly done, I'm sure-" Bucky rambled, relief flooding his body.

Randy pushed down a twinge of guilt, feeling this display made up for his moment of weakness. If the other Bros thought he was going soft he'd be out of the gang… and made a main target.

He hadn't always been like this. At first he just hovered on the edges, just watching Bash torment others, never helping. It became easier though. Making people scared of him kept them away.

The Bros avoided him for the rest of the day. Every time he tried to approach them in the halls, they went the opposite direction. At lunch they were nowhere to be found. Randy received his plate of food and sat alone at the table in the center of the cafeteria. A cookie in the shape of a ghost smiled, untouched, while he played a game on his phone.

As for the mysterious second trial of his initiation, Randy figured they would take him to the 'haunted' factory on the outskirts of town. He'd heard it was like a haunted house, but with more saws and conveyor belts. That still didn't explain the bit about missing the party. Bash wouldn't miss his own party.

"Uh, Randy… I finished the essay." Bucky interrupted.

"Hm? Just set it there," said Randy distractedly.

Bucky's hasty departure ushered in a more welcome sight.

"Ooo what's this?" A slender hand snatched up the paper before Randy could. "Got someone doing your homework? What a rebel."

"Give it back." Randy continued his game, already knowing who it was without looking. No one would be so casual around him… except Theresa.

She let it drift to the table, making him reach for it. Theresa sat a few seats away. "Our little secret I suppose?" she said with a laugh.

On the first day of school, she had said hello to him. Even though Randy didn't end up hanging out with them, he still had a soft spot for her.

"Mhm."

"No witty banter? You're in an even worse mood than usual. What gives?"

Randy finally glanced up. Like everyone else, she was dressed up. However, she was wearing a band geek uniform and a pair of shades.

"Just some trouble with my friends."

"As in they are causing trouble or you're in trouble?" Theresa said slyly.

Randy considered it for a moment. "Probably both."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't have to hang out with them you know."

"I know."

Theresa paused, as if making up her mind, then leaned closer to Randy.

"You're probably going to Bash's with all the other popular kids, but just hear me out," she said before he could interrupt. "Julian is inviting a few people over to play with an Ouija board he found and I wondered if you… might want to come with me?"

"Don't mess with those things!" Randy all but shouted.

Theresa flinched and prepared to leave the lunch table.

He spoke more calmly. "They're really dangerous. People should leave the dead alone, especially during this time of the year. Please don't-"

"See you later Randy." She walked back to her own table, upset.

Randy growled in frustration. Could nothing go right today? If anything, he should have agreed to go, to protect her. To protect all of them, even that creep Julian.

The end of the school day came more quickly than it usually seemed to. Anticipation of tonight's outing left Randy on edge. He had a bad feeling about the whole thing; unless they were taking him out for Charlie Clucker's, it was guaranteed he would not like the destination.

To his surprise, a car was in the garage when he arrived at home. Randy dumped his satchel just inside the front door and beelined to the kitchen without removing his shoes.

"Mom! What are you doing home early?"

The lady sorting through mail looked up with a smile. "I wanted to make sure you are doing alright. I know this time of the year is hard for you…"

"I'm fine. Really. In fact, I'm going out with some… friends later." He hoped she wouldn't inquire too much into it.

"Friends? You didn't tell me you made friends already! Sit, and tell me about them," she said airily. Mrs. Cunningham had been so worried her son would have a hard time adjusting to a new school and talking to real people.

"Umm, so you know McFist? I've been hanging out with his step-son." Randy pulled up a stool to the counter.

"See? I know the move was difficult, but things are already getting better." She ruffled her son's hair. "Do you really have to go out tonight? I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"It's alright, I'm prepared."

"If you're sure, I'll support your decision. Spaghetti and meatballs sound good?"

XX

Around seven, a car horn beeped in the driveway. Randy rushed out of his room, carefully tucking an object inside his jacket.

"They're here! I'll see you later," he called, hand on the doorknob.

"Wait a moment!" Mrs. Cunningham placed something around his neck.

"Moooom," Randy complained, fingering the gold necklace with a cross pendant.

"You never know. Now tell them not to be strangers and to come in next time."

Randy nodded, but disregarded her instruction. His home life and school life should never be mixed.

Strangely enough, a beat up old minivan was waiting. Bash wouldn't be caught dead driving a lowly car such as this. Having a rich step-dad meant he drove a sports car. However, Bash was not driving, Mick was.

"Ayyy Shrimp! Ready for some fun?" Ethan sat unbuckled it the seat behind the driver. Bash was shotgun and Doug was in the very back.

"You know it!" Randy chuckled weakly.

Mick backed into the road and drove away from the suburban home.

"Blindfold him." Bash commanded.

Randy was ambushed from behind, a burlap sack was thrust over his head and his hands bound.

"Hey, guys! What are you doing let me go!" Randy found the gesture highly unnecessary. He came with them, didn't he? What was the point in the kidnaping?

"We'll be there soon," Doug said.

The others laughed and turned on the radio. Randy recognized the melancholy tune of "Ghost Town" before Bash changed it to a song a song about sex and drugs.

A few minutes into the ride, it became obvious why they put the bag over his head. Every turn came as a surprise and without the seatbelt he might have fallen to the floor; Mick took corners fast. He felt hopelessly out of control of the situation. Furthermore, he had no idea where he was. There was a lot of Norrisville he hadn't explored so if they dumped him somewhere it would be hard to find home. They were trying to scare him. Plain and simple.

It was working.

The brakes squeaked as the van ground to a halt. Doors opened and closed and the van rocked with each exit. Two separate pairs of hands hoisted Randy by his armpits out of the van and guided him forward. Rusty metal whined.

Randy's first thought was that they were going to lock him in a cage. The truth wasn't too far off.

The sack was torn off and he was standing in front of the Norrisville cemetery. If not for the two juniors holding him, Randy would have dropped to his knees. _Oh no._

"Haha very funny guys," Randy laughed from nervousness.

Mick and Doug dragged him through the black, wrought iron gates. Stone pillars connected by tall fencing surrounded the entire site and by the lamplight, Randy could just make out the city's name fashioned into the arch above the gates.

"So how about that Halloween bash over at Bash's, eh?" He always chose the worst time to make puns.

The two Mean Bros dumped him unceremoniously and ran back to their leader. Bash looped a chain around the closest bars of the gate and secured them with a lock.

"Here's the deal, spend the night here or Bash'll kick you out of the gang," he cracked his knuckles, "the hard way."

"No scaredy-babies allowed!" Ethan added.

Randy stood up with some difficulty. How much is the gang's 'protection' worth? Compared to a night with the dead, not much, but coming home beat up with a broken nose was going to raise some questions.

"I'll do it." One night in a cemetery just before Halloween- what could go wrong?

They cheered and Doug passed Mick a wad of bills. Randy brushed off the loosely tied binding around his wrists.

"Don't even think of escaping, we'll know if you do," Bash stated and turned to leave. The others made comments like "Good luck!" and "Don't let the zombies bite!" but Randy elected to ignore them.

Soon he was alone. Or as alone as one could be in a graveyard.

* * *

 _a/n: last half comes out tomorrow. half way through writing this story i started to hate it. I dunno is it's bc i reread it so many times, or if maybe ninjashow is kinda getting old since it ended. But i spent too much time working on it to not post it so whatever. Happy Halloween! Level 1 should be updating next week... maybe_


	2. Chapter 2

Randy stood under the circle of light provided by the street light. The necropolis yawned, October fog pouring around the askew headstones. The opposing side was just visible with the glow of the full moon.

Determined to spend the whole night in the same spot, Randy sat down. A gust of wind blew dried up leaves at his feet. An owl hooted. Already the cold cement was sucking his body heat and he wished he had more than a pair of jeans and a jacket on.

Randy surveyed the scene, slowly turning his head to the right, then left. He couldn't let anything sneak up on him. Starting at everything that moved- leaves- the adrenaline let him fight off sleep. It didn't help that the tallest, skinniest grave markers resembled human silhouettes. It was like hundreds of people were watching, waiting for him to make the first move.

How long had he been here? Ten minutes? An hour?

Randy cursed his short attention span and reached into his jeans pocket for his phone. It wasn't there. He patted down all the pockets, but it was gone.

"Dang."

Maybe he left it at home, or it fell out in the van. Anxiety bubbled under his ribcage. If something happened he had no contact to the outside world. No way to tell his mom he wasn't coming home that night.

The lightbulb flickered, plunging the area into darkness for no more than a heartbeat. In that time something changed. Randy was sure of it. He began to hum nervously. It was like a game of _can you spot the difference?_ That tree, been there. That chipped tombstone, still there too. The skeletal hand laying a ways down the path…

Not so much.

That perked Randy up. Not for the first time he thought of the escape routes. Rescue by passing stranger, climbing the fence or cracking the combo lock. However, there was still one possibility. Crossing the cemetery to see if they locked the other gate too.

The lighting went out again, and then there were two hands. They slowly dragged themselves closer… and the light never came back.

Randy stood up, but otherwise didn't move. Once his eyes adjusted, Randy saw who was responsible. A transparent figure was hovering above the bones, concentrating more on moving them than Randy's reaction.

Randy almost smiled. The ghost was obviously young and inexperienced, both in age and its time as a ghost. This knowledge kept his fear in control; spirits fed off of emotional instability. Staying calm is the best defense- Randy learned that the hard way.

"Back off!" The ghost looked up, confused. "Yes, I can see you." Much to his dismay, his voice was on the shaky side.

The portly ghost was male, perhaps the same age as Randy himself. It was impossible to tell what his hair color was as all ghosts are a see through white or light blue. As he floated closer, Randy noticed that he was also on the short side.

"I'm warning you, don't come any closer!" _Show no fear show no fear._

"Or what? You think that cross is going to save you? Those are for vampires dummy." the ghost smirked.

Randy reached inside his jacket, his hand trembling.

The ghost drifted far too close for comfort. "I can't wait to get my hands on that body of yours."

If the ghost had been alive, Randy could have felt its breath. Finally, Randy had a firm hold on the object he had tucked away earlier- a dagger. He blindly slashed at the ghost with it and managed to nick its hand.

"Ow! No fair!" The ghost quickly flew out of reach.

"Okay first of all, this body's mine. Second," Randy shook the dagger, "don't mess with me."

The dagger was pure black with a pewter hilt. A red, square-like design was engraved on the base of the blade. Ghosts can touch and control inanimate objects, but almost nothing can touch them in return. Obsidian is one of the few things that can harm a ghost.

"Can't blame a soul for trying. Nobody comes here anymore!" He pouted. He picked up the bones and threw them off to the side.

"How many more of you are there?" Randy inquired.

"There's only one Howard, thank you very much, but if you mean ghosts… I dunno hundreds maybe?"

Randy figured that would be the case. It may not seem active now, but graveyards always were this close to Halloween. He'd already been spotted by one ghost, more were sure to try their luck at a new body. Ghosts have no senses except for sight so they become incredibly envious of the living's ability to feel, smell and eat.

"If you alert anyone to my presence, I will have to kill you. Again." Randy frowned. Obsidian would make a make a ghost dissipate, but they're already dead. What would you call that?

"Ha! Like I'd want any competition."

Randy began his journey across the cemetery. The stone path was overgrown and he had to move slowly to avoid tripping. He didn't care what Bash did to him, his body would heal. If Randy tried to spend the night… well, he didn't want to think about that.

The ghost- Howard- followed him. Randy had to keep an eye on him while watching for any new threats. Although, he could have kept track of the ghost just by listening because it would not _shut up._

"So you're a ghost hunter then?"

"Sure." Maybe that would make it go away.

"No really, that symbol is from the Norisu family. Famous ghost hunters back in the day. Not like I would know, I've been here… um… I dunno, but definitely less than eight hundred years," Howard rambled.

If threats don't work, maybe Randy could give him the silent treatment. Giving in and continuing a conversation might relax his guard. Despite how friendly the spirit might seem, they always had ulterior motives.

"You don't _look_ like a Norisu. You're generally unthreatening and it looks like your hair lost a fight to a lawnmower."

Randy couldn't help glaring.

"What's your name then?" Howard waited for an answer and when none was forthcoming, he floated in front of Randy. "I heard those brutes call you Shrimp."

Tightening his grip on the dagger, Randy considered putting the ghost out of his misery. Names have power, telling his to a supernatural being could be perilous.

"Okay Shrimp the Pseudo Ghost Hunter, let me properly introduce myself. My name is Howard, Spirit of the Dead and I-"

"Cunningham. My last name is Cunningham." Randy rolled his eyes. You would think it's be easy to kill a ghost this annoying.

"See, that wasn't too hard!" Howard paused in thought and Randy walked around him. "No Cunninghams here. Are you new to the area?"

"Yup." They were almost halfway across the cemetery. A patch of clouds passed in front of the moon.

A blissful moment of silence passed as Howard caught up.

"Has anyone proved that NASA faked the moon landing yet?"

"Do you ever shut your cheese hole?!" Randy said with exasperation, turning to face Howard.

"I'm not sure if I should feel offended by that, but c'mon! I haven't talked to anyone in decades," whined Howard.

"What about your ghost buddies?" Randy died a little on the inside. If he became this ghost's therapist so help him…

"They don't come out anymore, they've given up hope of ever escaping."

The ghost sounded so forlorn, Randy had to suppress the urge to pat him on the back or something cheesy like that.

"Escaping… Like as in moving on?" Most people with proper funerals who died natural death never became ghosts. Only those with unfinished business had the willpower to stay on Earth, where they were devoid of senses and nobody could see them. Excluding Randy of course.

"That too, but no one can leave the cemetery. The gates are enchanted to keep us in. No scores can be settled or messages relayed. Most of us forget why we're hanging around in the first place. The oldest spirits just… stop being. No afterlife, only the end of existing."

The explanation made sense. Unlike East Spleazleton, Norrisville was quiet. In his old town Randy couldn't turn a corner without a spirit begging him to release it to the afterlife or trying to haunt him. How was a seven year old supposed to understand that though…

No. High school is a new start and tonight will not take that away from him. If he made it out, he'd forget all about ghosts. Ghosts aren't real and they certainly can't be your friend.

"-and you know what else? I haven't eaten in who knows how long, yet I've not lost weight! Where's the justice in that?" Howard continued his rant about the troubles in the life of a detached soul, most of which Randy tuned out.

"And then, someone must have spelled my name wrong on my gravestone, because I can't find it!" Howard huffed, feeling content after getting all that off his chest.

"You might say that was a…" Randy paused, locking eyes with Howard.

Realization dawned on the ghost's face. "Don't you dare-"

"Grave mistake." Bad puns strike again.

"Are you kidding me? A mix up like this is no laughing matter!"

But they did laugh. Differences aside, company had made the journey through the morbid place more bearable. The clouds lifted and moonlight reflected off the metal gates, perhaps sixty feet away.

Randy glanced at Howard covertly. The ghost was stealthily falling behind, sensing that if he didn't make his move now he would lose his prey. Besides the dagger, Randy had no protection. The strange guy who had given him the weapon said it was possible to make a ghost repelling aura, but Randy hadn't figured it out yet.

The freshman decided to make a run for it. Every breath of cold air tore at the inside of his throat and he vaguely wondered if the no running with scissors rule also applied to daggers.

There was no way to tell if the ghost was in pursuit. They made no footsteps nor had the need to breathe.

Randy reached the gate and almost sobbed in despair. These ones too had a shiny chain and lock wrapped around the bars. The air behind him grew even colder; Randy quickly spun and raised the obsidian blade.

"You're no fun! I thought we were getting along," Howard hissed.

"I know what your kind is like!" Could he hold Howard off until morning? It was maybe ten o'clock now. "You just want to use me for your own purposes so don't get chummy with me!"

The memories came rushing back like a freight train. The first day of second grade a small boy sat in the back of the room. Randy never questioned why no one else could see him. Other children thought Randy childish for having an imaginary friend and would not accept him into their group of friends. By middle school, he was teased relentlessly yet he still stood by the ghost.

However, there was one day when he couldn't take it anymore and told the ghost that they could no longer be friends. The ghost's response left him hospitalized for a month. The doctors had no idea what has wrong with him.

Norrisville was supposed to be somewhere where he could start over.

In the moment the memory of Randy's scarred childhood chose to resurface, his guard had lowered. Howard seized his chance and when Randy realized his danger, it was too late. In the split second where the ghost wondered whether to enter through the nose or mouth (it was a popular debate among older ghosts) a low moaning emanating from the center of the cemetery stopped his advance.

The impossible had happened. Moans turned into high pitched shrieks as spirits woke up. Wispy forms wafted up from the ground like steam evaporating from a pot. Something big must have happened, like… it couldn't be…

Randy took advantage of the distraction and began hacking at the lock with the dagger. Holy cheese that was a lot of ghosts.

"Don't shoot the messenger, but I'm pretty sure the Necromancer just broke out," Howard said very casually.

The only reply was the rattling of chains against metal.

"You know, the reason for the enchanted fences. The sorcerer who can raise the dead and begin the apocalypse." This didn't bother Howard. After all, he was already dead.

Randy told Howard to go do something that should not be repeated in writing.

"Whatever, your funeral." He tried to sound uncaring, but Howard honestly didn't want anything to happen to the human and not just because he wanted a body. With the seal about to be broken he could find any body he wanted. No, Howard had become inexplicably attached to Cunningham.

Surprisingly, the other ghosts were not interested in Randy. They were too busy talking about the release of the Necromancer.

"Can you believe that?" Howard attempted conversation again, "Some kids contacted Amanda, of all spirits, through those board things and got themselves possessed!"

"What?" A chill traveled down his spine that had nothing to do with proximity to a ghost.

"Yup, Amanda took over three of them and the other… hm. No one is sure who the other is, not a local spirit," Howard almost laughed. Stupid people.

Randy took off before the ghost was halfway through the first sentence. Not too far away, a green glow was pulsing. That must be where Theresa is. He knew she would never follow his advice.

Sure enough, four teens stood in front of the entrance of a mausoleum. One had green lightening shooting from his fingertips focusing on the seal of the tomb- Julian. At least, it looked like Julian except for the white hair. Three stood in a semicircle around him like sentries. Theresa's eyes shone with a green light. Randy recognized the other two boys, but did not know their names.

"Theresa?"

Three heads turned in unison, but otherwise ignored him. He couldn't fight them, Randy didn't want to damage her body on the slight chance she may still be in there. On the other hand, letting the four to continue was a bad idea.

"Ah, so you know her, Cunningham," Howard drifted next to him. "Hope you weren't too attached, 'cuz proper spirits remove the host's soul."

"What do you mean 'remove'?"

"Some ghost hunter you are. Isn't it obvious? Take one out and put another in; two's a crowd." Howard sighed.

Randy thought for a moment. "Does that mean if I can get rid of… Amanda… I could replace Theresa?"

"Only if you know some serious dark magic. But first, getting rid of Amanda won't be easy. You'll either have to convince her to leave or force her with your icky knife." Howard cringed as Randy held up the dagger.

"Will you try to stop me?"

"Nope."

As the novice ghost hunter hesitantly tiptoed over to Amanda, Howard wished he could eat because popcorn sounded amazing right about then.

Randy winced at every crunchy leaf he stepped on. Even though there was no way he could sneak up on her, the other ghosts had quit their wailing and each footfall was deafening.

"Hey, I was wondering if-" Randy began to explain that three bodies was excessive when Amanda conjured three balls of energy. Each body worked in harmony, their actions perfect mirrors, and Randy leapt aside to avoid the deadly energy.

"You are no match for me, human. The time of the living is at an end," a vaguely feminine voice echoed thrice.

A loud crack sounded from the tomb. Swirling green smoke poured from the broken doors and permeated throughout the graveyard. Ghosts made a ring around the tomb and the humans, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Impressive, but I still want my friend back."

The ensuing battle was short lived. Three against one is never good odds for the one. Randy was soon on the damp ground, having slipped trying to avoid an attack. Amanda was just toying with him, throwing energy balls close enough to make him move, but not to enough to hurt.

Howard watched unsurprised, of course Cunningham failed.

Amanda laughed, genuinely amused. "You can have them back, I hate disguises anyway." Theresa and the two boys collapsed to the ground. A hazy lavender ghost in the shape of a tall woman appeared on the tomb.

She knew there was nothing Randy could do to stop them.

The teen rushed to Theresa's side, propping her up and checking her pulse. Alive. She did not move or respond however, nobody was home. Howard floated over partially to see the pretty girl up close and partially because he had nothing better to do.

"How do I replace her soul?" Randy asked.

"Don't look at me, you can't see living souls 'cuz they're not technically ghosts." Howard shrugged.

Randy groaned. How would he explain her catatonic body?

Unexpectedly, the ground started to rumble. Randy was certain earthquakes were not a common occurrence in Norrisville. The noises coming from the earth were unlike anything he had heard before, muffled scratching.

"There goes the neighborhood. Wanna get some fast food before the apocalypse?" Howard offered.

"That's the second time you've mentioned that word. Do you mean like… oh no," Randy trailed off in horror. The most common word to precede 'apocalypse' is zombie.

Arms and heads broke the surface of the weed covered ground, most nothing but bones and rags.

Randy snatched up Theresa, conflicted over whether to leave the two boys or not. Then it hit him, he had no way out himself. Locked in with a horde of zombies. Not exactly the way he thought he'd go. Good thing he wasn't the type of person who cracks under pressure.

"Howard!"

"What." The ghost acknowledged, watching the emerging bodies with mild disgust.

"I need you to take over one of them and carry the other," Randy nodded in the direction of the inert boys.

"And what makes you think I'll help you?" He inquired.

"Because… I'll take you to Charlie Cluckers if I survive."

The reanimated skeletons were halfway out, teeth gnashing and bones rattling. One close to Randy had paused its escape to try and grab his ankle. It wasn't close enough, but Randy stepped back anyway.

Howard hovered over the shorter one; he was dressed as a clown, red wig and all.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I'll do it," said Howard, clenching a fist dramatically and looking off into the middle distance.

Randy felt something tug on his pant leg. The zombie had gotten much closer and Randy kicked the arm clean out of the socket. By then, the ghost had already taken over the clown.

"You know that feeling when you put a shoe on the wrong foot? Imagine that but with, like, everything." Howard floundered, not quite able to stay on his new feet.

"Are you going to be able to carry that guy?" Randy worried.

"Do I have to? I forgot how oppressive gravity is."

"Well I can't just leave them!"

The area around the sorcerer's prison was the safe island in the sea of dead. The ghosts were crowded at the fence and the zombies milled about aimlessly. A green ring of Julian's- or whatever was using him- magic surrounded the tomb and kept zombies from disturbing his work.

"Fine, his legs are longer than mine were, but I think I got it now." Howard the clown picked up the unknown boy with some difficulty. "What's the plan?"

Randy shifted Theresa over his shoulder to free his right hand. "We're going to the fence and when the enchantment goes down, you're going to phase us through."

"And I suppose the undead will wish us on our merry way?" taunted Howard.

"I played a videogame once where the only way to get past zombies was to walk really slowly. They don't have eyes, so I figured… it might work." Randy said. "I still have my dagger."

"First of all, obsidian is for spirits and ghosts, second- videogames?"

"Never mind, we go on the count of three. One… two… three."

Progress was slow. While Randy's tactic seemed to work, sometimes zombies wandered close anyway and they would have to stop. Once, a skeleton stared with empty sockets in their direction for a solid two minutes before moving on. The enchantment broke before they were three quarters to the fence. All the spirits left and Howard grumbled about not getting first pick.

The Necromancer must have been released. The zombies were heading back to the tomb and random flashes of light and yelling made Randy think a fight had started. Whatever was happening, the two no longer had to continue at a snail's pace.

Howard used his ghost abilities to phase one person at a time through the fence and was soon begging Randy keep his promise about the fast food.

Sometimes it takes the most unlikely of circumstances to bring people together. Not even death can tear apart a friendship that is meant to be.

* * *

 _a/n: edit 6/25/16_

 _apparently i'm going to update this so i had to get rid of the spoilers in the original author's notes._


	3. Chapter 3

Randy had no idea where he was going, just anywhere to get away from the Norrisville Cemetery. Each footfall on the concrete jarred his knees and echoed off the houses, but he couldn't stop. He ran and ran until the moans of the undead faded choice of turns seemed to be taking him closer to the city and out of the suburbs. He cursed his lack of direction.

Norrisville wasn't as big as New York City, but it was nothing to sneeze at either. However, the dead outnumber the living no matter where you're at. The city could already be completely over run even before the zombies arrive.

The town's emergency siren was blaring.

 _WHHHAAAAAAAAAA. WHHHAAAAAAAAAA._

It had come too late for those at ground zero.

Traffic was at a standstill. Many cars were on the sidewalk, crashed in the violent takeover. Glassy eyed beings wandered the streets, still trying to figure out how modern life worked. There wasn't an unpossessed human in sight.

Randy stopped running and slumped to his knees in the middle of a street. Could he be the only one left?

Howard the clown was grateful for the break. His host had apparently exercised as much as he had in life and trying to do it while carrying a limp body was extra difficult.

"I can see that this is slightly distressing for you, but the undead are on their way and I'm really hungry," Howard prodded. "You promised me food."

Randy gently laid Theresa down on the asphalt. He stood up, back turned to the ghost, with his head hanging in defeat. The stop light in front of them changed to red. It cast the scenery in an eerie, crimson light, silhouetting Randy's trembling figure. The disturbed teen unsheathed his dagger and slowly turned to face the comment. Howard once again remembered what it felt like to fear for his life.

"'Slightly distressing'?" He said, his voice low. "The city is overrun, my mother is either possessed or about to become a zombie, and I am _alone_ with _you?_ A ghost whose kind is responsible for this mess?" Randy stalked closer, gaining speed with every step. "SLIGHTLY DISTRESSING?!"

The intended threat was never carried out. When Randy finally looked into the possessed being's eyes, he didn't see a heartless ghost. There was something so, _so_ human about him. Howard was terrified.

Who could kill a clown anyway?

"Fine," Randy spat in disgust. "This may be my last meal."

Charlie Cluckers wasn't hard to find. Like in most cities, fast food places always had a tall, illuminated sign in front to attract customers. The restaurant was broken and abandoned, but they were able to find half-finished orders in the back. They sat at a booth. The unconscious bodies were propped up on the inner seats and the frenemies sat opposite on the ends.

Randy picked away at the chicken wings apathetically. Howard had seemed to recover and was devouring his heaping basket of fries with gusto.

"These are _amazing._ I've finally found heaven," Howard joked. When Randy didn't respond, he changed the subject. "Hey, Cunningham?"

Randy grunted in acknowledgement.

"What are you going to do next?" Howard worried that, with the promise of food in exchange for escape completed, the armature ghost hunter would leave him behind.

"Well, I think I'm going to 'borrow' a car, get some supplies at my house, and then fix Theresa. Once I get a car, you're free to go on your merry way."

"Oh." Howard thought for a moment. "And I suppose you know where that chump Julian lives?" The clown smiled smugly.

"Of course! He lives… um…" Randy sighed. "Dang it."

"Road trip!"

"How do you even know where he lives? Whoever owns that body is gone." Randy observed.

"There's still some recent memories in here. Like…" Howard looked to his left, "he's Dave. I'm Juggo."

Randy dumped his half-eaten wings in the trash. "Don't get too comfy in there."

After Howard took more junk food for the ride, they sneaked out into the parking lot. They needn't have worried, the ghosts didn't care about them- most had figured out how to walk and were having a swell time checking out their surroundings.

Across the street there was an extended cab pickup truck that had hit a lamppost. The front was dented, but the key was in the ignition and it still ran.

"What's wrong with them? They're just smiling and touching things," Randy said, helping Howard load Theresa and Dave into the back seat.

"Not all ghosts are evil, they're just happy to be able to feel again. Spirits on the other hand are bad news, don't mess with those."

Randy got into the driver's side with some complaining from Howard. He figured that since he was technically older than Randy was, he should be the one driving. Randy pointed out that he probably had no experience driving a newer vehicle. When Randy pressed the gas pedal and the truck went nowhere, Howard asked if Randy had _any_ experience driving a vehicle. Between the two of them, they soon figured it out.

"Aren't ghosts and spirits the same thing?" Randy asked. His house wasn't far from the restaurant when traveling in a car, but he drove slow since it was only his second time driving.

"Not exactly. Ghosts are souls who can't move on; spirts are souls that never died. If a living soul isn't returned to it's body, it will become a spirit and it won't be pleased… You're a terrible ghosthunter- I'm more qualified than you are and I'm a ghost!"

It was not long before the screaming started. The zombies had finally reached the city and they didn't discriminate.

When they reached Randy's house it was about midnight. All the lights in the neighborhood were shut off. Either people were hiding out hoping the problem would go away or the ghosts that died over a hundred years ago hadn't figured out light switches yet.

Randy parked the truck, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the house. What did his mom think when the siren went off and he wasn't home? She probably tried to call him and there was no answer… He felt horrible. If he had just gone with Theresa he could have killed Amanda and none of this would have happened.

He felt something lightly touch his arm. Randy quickly drew it closer to his body.

"Sheesh," Howard said, "just making sure you're alright. You were spacing out."

"Don't touch me." Randy prepared himself for the worst. However, the lone carved pumpkin on the porch was lit.

Howard noticed the tension leave Randy. "What? Did I miss something?"

Randy left the truck and crossed the street without answering. His mother insisted on always having a carved pumpkin in the month of October. Whenever she was gone at night, she lit the candle in the pumpkin to "protect you when I can't." He doubted that the jack-o-lantern did anything, but it made him feel better. If she had time to light it, then she probably got out of the city in time.

Howard caught up to Randy just as he was about to open the door with a spare key.

"I do not give you permission to enter," Randy stated flatly.

Howard threw his hands in the air. "Once again, I'm not a vampire! I don't need permission-unless you have an anti-ghost ward- otherwise I go where I please! Worst Hunter ever." The ghost crossed the threshold haughtily.

Randy rolled his eyes. "For the millionth time I'm not a trained ghost hunter! The dude gave me the dagger and book, and disappeared!"

The ghost was instantly drawn to the living room where he picked up the TV remote.

"Make yourself at home why don't you?" Randy said sarcastically.

The teen went to his room and began to fill a backpack with essential items. Then he went to the kitchen and grabbed some lightweight, non-perishable food. The last stop was the hall closet.

"Cunningham, this is so far out!" Howard called from the living room. "Your TV is flat and the picture quality is to the max!"

"Howard this isn't the seventies!" Randy yelled back. He heard the TV shut off and Howard joined him in the hall.

"What year is it, then?" Howard said soflty.

"2012."

The silence was oppressive. Howard used the wall for support as he took in the news. He would have been 50 by now. His sister would be an old lady and his parents…

Randy imagined what it would be like if he died tomorrow. In a few months he would be 15. That's not much time. 15 years isn't enough discover what life has to offer. Small things like a first car, graduating high school, a first kiss. Bigger, scarier things like a career, his own apartment/house, a family… Howard couldn't have been much older than him.

"Dude, I knew it! You're in a street gang!" Howard pointed at the gun Randy was holding.

Randy holstered the Glock. "Yup, you got me. We're called the Norrisville Wing Dings. _No_ I'm not in a gang! This is for emergencies."

"You could have fooled me. First those big thugs, then your hair, stealing a car and the gun…"

Randy sulked back to his room and came back with a red beanie pulled over the offending hiar cut. "Happy? You can't judge, I bet you had a mullet once."

The two continued around back to a children's play set. It had a slide and swings, and a small sand box underneath it. A gentle breeze made the swings sway back and forth, the metal hinges squeaking.

Randy dug through the sand with his fingers. A few inches down, the moonlight illuminated an ornate wooden box.

"You reminded me I had this. Thanks a lot." Randy removed a large, black book and tossed the box aside.

"Is that… a Nomicon? You know someone sacrificed their soul for that, right?!" Howard reached for it, but Randy tucked it in his backpack. "And you buried it!"

"It wouldn't stop whispering!" Randy looked panicked. "I didn't know what else to do!"

"You could have learned from it and become decent Hunter. You could have actually understood the differences between a ghost and a vampire!" Howard didn't care that he was encouraging Cunningham to be a sworn enemy of ghosts, the concept was just too cool for him. The older ghosts' stories about the great Hunters were exciting and they were one of the few things that kept him sane during those forty years. It was like finding out your best friend had the Excalibur.

"I don't want to understand, I want it to all go away!" Randy looked up to the moon. "I hate this."

Howard winced.

There was nothing else to say at that point. Howard gave Randy directions to Julian's house, but that was all that was said on the drive there.

Randy half-expected Julian to live in one of the bad neighborhoods, where half the homes are foreclosed and abandoned and the lawns overgrown, but he didn't. The neighborhood looked too normal to have something so evil come from it.

Parking the truck in the driveway, Randy said, "Let's investigate first. I don't want any other spooks in the house getting ahold of them."

Juggo's form went limp, white vapor spilling from his mouth. The ghost stuck out his tongue and floated through the door and into the night.

At first, Randy was relieved. He didn't like having to constantly watch his back and he had been worried that Howard wouldn't leave Juggo willingly. That would have cuased all sorts of problems. Now, he had three bodies to carry instead of one and he had to investigate a potentially haunted house alone.

Randy shrugged. He would have three, normal people to talk to soon.

The front door was locked so he broke a window with a rock. Using the dagger, Randy ripped the screen which allowed him to unlock the window and crawl through without cutting himself. The house was in shambles. Furniture was overturned and stuffing pulled out; there were scorch marks on the walls, and deep gouges on the laminated floors.

Randy closed his eyes, searching for the cold, primal fear that signified a supernatural presence. The creeping feeling that makes you want to look behind you when you're alone, so sure you are that something is right there, you ignore it. You continue on, as if not seeing makes it not exist. But it does. And it is there.

Not this time though. The house was clear.

He fixed the mangled furniture in the living room as best as he could. Some of it was too broken to ever be used again, but Randy right sided a chair and shoved some stuffing back into the couch. He even found a working lamp. Suddenly he felt very uneasy and wanted to get them in quickly, where he could keep an eye on them.

Back at the truck, Randy carefully brushed stay hairs out of Theresa's face and behind her ear. His mom was aware of the danger this time of year held. Had her family been prepared? Probably not. Did he really want to bring her back to this broken city? No, but the alternative was having her spirit stalk him for the rest of his life.

It only took five minutes for him to carry them the short distance one at a time. Randy placed the two guys on the couch and Theresa on the chair. Now came the hard part- he had never actually done this before. He had exorcised weak ghosts from inanimate objects twice and had kept a soul from leaving a body once. It wasn't much to go on, but he knew the more experience he had, the more he would attract unwanted ghostly attention. In order to get rid of them, he needed that knowledge. One big cycle of nope.

"Time to take a crash course with this bad boy," Randy said, hefting the book onto his lap, "It should be called: How to Not Suck at Ghost Hunting for Dummies."

 _You have already failed. Lesson number one: Be vigilant._

"Rude. What does that even mean anyway," Randy responded, disinterested in the Nomicon's advice. At least it had calmed down; it wouldn't stop cussing when he took it out of the sandbox.

 _It means you did not secure the area._

"I locked the front door…" As soon as he said it, he heard a back door click shut. "Wonk. Gonna help me out here? Of course not." Randy slid the book under the couch with a foot.

Randy could sense them- four ghosts. He chided himself for forgetting to check for other entrances. However, locked doors aren't going to stop a ghost anyway.

He couldn't run, not without leaving Theresa, Juggo and Dave helpless and vulnerable. So he waited.

Four men entered the room.

Randy flashed his blade. "I wouldn't come any closer if I were you."

"Aw, aren't you a tough little Medium?" said one of the ghosts. It seemed to be the leader. "Don't take this personally, but we're gonna have to kill you. We can't have you sending us back, can we?"

They advanced slowly, weary of the obsidian. It was deadly even when they had a corporeal form if Randy hit them in the right spot.

It was far from an even match. They surrounded him and he couldn't watch them all at once. Randy was knocked to the floor from behind. The carpet cushioned his fall and he swiftly rolled onto his back just in time to block a pair of hands from closing around his neck. Randy grabbed one of his opponent's wrists with his free hand and thrust upwards with the dagger. The ghost locked on to that hand, turning the blade around so that it pointed at its owner.

Randy knew he couldn't last long against the adult. The distance between the sharp tip and his neck was decreasing and it was all he could do not to be impaled. There was no way he could get out from under a man almost twice his weight!

His mind spun. It was like he was watching his would be murder stab him in slow motion. Randy wonderd if he'd end up becoming a ghost, what a horrible idea. He was not going to end up like Howard! Howard…

"Howard!" Randy prayed that the ghost hadn't wandered too far. "Help!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Randy noticed the three other ghosts getting bored. They found the inert teens on the furniture and began to use them like puppets or dolls. Apparently, it was very amusing to use Dave's own hand to smack himself in the face.

"Howard!"

"Stop that and just die already!" The ghost hissed, freeing his wrist so that he could press down with the strength of both arms.

Randy could no longer see the daggar's point. How close was it? An inch? A centimeter? In a desperate move to save his life, Randy gripped the weapon's blade to deflect its tradjectory towards the ground. It worked, but now the edge was slicing painfully through his palm.

Randy screamed.

Blinded by the pain, he completely missed the entrance of another stranger in the room. Suddenly, the man on top of him was gone. Someone had tackled him and they were rolling across the floor, yelling and beating each other.

Randy stood up shakily and put the dagger away. His rescuer was a teen like him, but Randy had never seen him before. He was short and pudgy and had bright orange hair. He was also stronger than Randy, considering that he had come out on top of the struggle and was punching the possessed man mercilessly in the face.

"Cunningham, do something!"

The three ghosts had dropped their puppets, trying to drag the boy- Howard- off their leader. Randy realized what he had to do. There was no hope of even two of them overpowering four experienced ghosts. It probably wouldn't work, but it was all he could think of at the moment.

"Howard, move!"

 _Separate the clouds, Gather the fallen winds, Free the chicken._

It was the same ridiculous thing the book had told him when a phantom had possessed their toaster. It had taken forever to get it right.

Randy was much more focused now though. He saw the corresponding movements in his mind's eye and executed them smoothly. As he 'freed the chicken',-pushing away from his body with upturned palms- a fist formed of air shot across the room, sailing through the possessed bodies, and knocked the ghosts right out of them. The ghosts fled in fear and their bodies slumped to the floor.

Howard and Randy stood, breathing heavy from the ordeal, and stared at the four new empty bodies that were added to the room. It had happened so quickly that neither could quite comprehend what happened.

"You did that without any incantations or powerful objects or anything…" Howard pointed out in awe.

"Was I supposed to?" Randy asked. He hoped not. He couldn't memorize things to save his life.

Howard continued as if he didn't hear. "You're really not a ghost hunter, are you?" He sounded almost disappointed.

Randy's first instinct was to say, _duh, how many times have I told you that_? But he knew why the ghost was upset. "No, I'm a medium."

"So that's why you glow, not literally," he explained, seeing Randy's puzzled expression, "but on the spiritual plane. There's something so… calming about it."

Randy didn't appreciate the thought- he did _not_ want to be a lighthouse- but it explained why ghosts always knew what he was. Except for this one.

"You can help ghosts move on… tell them their unfinished business," Howard said, frustrated with how clueless he had been. "You must think I'm a Class A jerk, pretending to not know and cozying up to you to get a favor." Even as he said it, Randy could tell that he still hoped he might get that favor.

"I'm sorry, Howard, but I can't do it. I _won't_ do it." Randy shivered. "It would mean experiencing your final moments… and I just can't do that."

The Ouija board was set up in the middle of a small dinner table. As a medium, Randy was one of the few who can see a living soul. There were four, tiny lights, like fireflies, floating above the chairs at the table. The Nomicon walked him through the process. All the while, Howard was quiet for once. When the three teens were sucesfually restored, they didn't even notice him until Randy pointed him out.

"Don't just thank me, this is my man Howard here. He's saved my life at least twice tonight; I couldn't have made it here without him."

* * *

 _a/n: Didn't want to stop there, but I have to get back to Level 1. I have 2k done for it already but I'm hoping to get another thousand in. I know I said I wasn't going to continue this… whoops. There wasn't much interest in it when I first wrote it, so unless that changes I prolly won't do much more with it. I don't know much about this kinda thing anyway, I've neer seen Supernatural lol_


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